


Endeavour: Caribou

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Birth, Caribou, F/M, Forests, Hallucinations, Holiday, Hospitals, Marriage, Nature, Really Strange Berries, Reindeer, Robin Hood - Freeform, Sherwood Forest, Snow, Vacation, Visions, national parks, nottingham - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: Continuing on from ‘Dancer.’It’s 1970. Jim Strange has sideburns. Morse wears a denim jacket. Miss Joan Thursday grapples with strange visions in the night. Who knows what’s going on? I sure don’t.Title taken from an anachronistic song:‘This human formWhere I was bornI now repent’- The Pixies, ‘Caribou,’ 1987
Relationships: Bryan Lomax/Shirley Trewlove, Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday
Kudos: 3





	Endeavour: Caribou

Endeavour: Caribou  
by Parakeetist

At the cemetery on the outskirts of Oxford, the rows of graves were daily swept by workers. They cleaned all dirt and leaves, but would usually leave as found items such as rocks and bundles of flowers. No doubt, these had been left by mourners, and needed to be there for a while.  
  
A young female police officer walked down the lane, until she found the name she wanted. She dipped her knee and touched the name etched into the rock.  
  
“George,” she said. She sniffed to hold back tears. “What could have been, eh?”  
  
Shirley Trewlove tapped the stone twice. It had PC Fancy’s name, dates of birth and death, and the engraving, ‘Beloved son, devoted police officer.’ That he was.  
  
After a few minutes of prayer, Shirley took from her pocket a little vial and poured it out on the earth of the grave. It contained champagne, which she had been saving for the toast at their wedding. A day which, of course, never arrived. The rest of it would go well with dinner, sometime.  
  
She placed a bundle of roses on the ground in front of the stone. Then she kissed her fingertips and touched them to the surface one more time.  
  
As she stood, she noticed a big fellow, standing some meters away. His hair was reddish brown, and he had wide shoulders. He nodded as she walked by.  
  
“Pleasant weather, innit?” the man said. “Ah, you wouldn’t happen to know where a Kevin Lomax is buried?” The man scratched his chin. “He’s my uncle.”  
  
“No, I’m sorry. Maybe someone who works here can tell you.”  
  
“Oh, thank you. You on the job?” He pointed to her uniform jacket.  
  
“Ah, am I on the police force? Yes, I am.”  
  
The man suddenly tilted his head. “Say, would you know whatever happened to a Detective Constable Morse? I’m sorry, I don’t know his first name.”  
  
“That’s all right, nobody does. He got promoted. Made Detective Sergeant, last I knew. I used to work with him.”  
  
“Oh, indeed? Eh, well, tell him I said hello, if you see him.”  
  
“I wasn’t going to visit him. I work in London now.” She pointed to the ‘LMP’ pin on her jacket. “Just came here to place some flowers.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“I’ve really got to go.”  
  
“Ah – would you mind waiting a minute?” Bryan interjected. “As soon as I find someone to show me where Uncle Kevin’s marker is, I can put my own flowers. Then - can we go somewhere?”  
  
Shirley thought a minute, and said, “All right.”  
  
Lomax rushed off to look for someone. 

  


…

Meanwhile, Endeavour Morse was helping to train a new detective constable. The man’s name was Ian Faulkner.  
  
Ian constantly scratched his nose.  
  
The two were about to get into Morse’s car. “Do you have some kind of infection? Do I have to take you to the doctor?” Endeavour pestered him.  
  
“No,” Ian said. He got in the passenger side.  
  
Endeavour sighed, and gunned the engine. Almost immediately, the radio sounded.  
  
“Station to Car 5-B?” the announcer said.  
  
Morse picked up the radio fob. “Here, over,” he said.  
  
“You should return to the station, Detective Sergeant,” the dispatcher continued. “Your session today with DC Faulkner is canceled.”  
  
“Oh?” Morse said. “First I’m hearing of this.”  
  
“Please take him home.”  
  
“Ah, to his house, or the station?”  
  
“The station.”  
  
“Affirmative. Over.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” the officer said, and terminated the call.  
  
“Well, looks like you’ve got to go back in and talk to the brass.” Endeavour got out and watched Ian do so as well.  
  
“Is that it?” Faulkner said, with a shrug.  
  
“I gather.” Morse kept looking as the thin, black-haired young man strolled into the building. Once the other fellow made it in, Morse paced a while in the car park. He smoked half a cigarette, snuffed it out, and threw it in the ash tray.  
  
Then he opened the door and walked in. He nodded at a couple of officers walking by, and stopped at DCI Thursday’s office.  
  
“Hello, sir,” Endeavour said, and shut the door behind him. “How are you this-”  
  
“Good thing you closed the door,” Thursday said. He frowned. “I’ve got a complaint about you. From two sixth-form college girls.”  
  
Morse looked baffled. “I don’t remember bumping into any of them lately, sir. What did they say?”  
  
“They said you stopped them to ask if they’d seen a stolen bicycle.”  
  
“Ah, maybe.”  
  
“Wipe that smirk off your face. This is serious.”  
  
“I wasn’t-”  
  
“Don’t complain. They could have your warrant card for this.”  
  
Morse gulped. He nodded. Thursday continued.  
  
“You haven’t been chasing down stolen property since you were a PC,” Frederick said.  
  
“I remember the case now,” Endeavour said. “The bicycle was said to belong to a murder suspect.”  
  
“Zane Briggs?” Fred asked.  
  
Morse nodded. “Another squad ended up bringing him in, sir, but before then-”  
  
“Don’t tell me. You felt obligated to help.”  
  
Morse paused. “Yes, sir, that’s what I always try to do.”  
  
“They said you offered to steal a bicycle for them to use.”  
  
“What?” Morse blinked. “I didn’t say anything like that. I’m sure.”  
  
“Think back. Are you?”  
  
“Absolutely. I said, ‘You can buy a bike, if you need one.’ That’s it.”  
  
“I’ll take your word for it.”  
  
“This won’t stay on my record, will it? You don’t really believe them, do you?”  
  
“No, but I am worried about your reputation. I’ll write a rebuttal. Unless we hear back from their barristers, you should be all right. Double-check every report you hand in, from now on.”  
  
“Yes, sir. I will.”  
  
“Dismissed.”  
  
He ran to a water fountain and took a long drink. Good grief.  
  
Endeavour checked his watch. It was nearly time to clock out anyway. He stopped at the break room to buy a candy bar and a can of soda pop. Ever since he’d found out that he had diabetes, his diet had gone all to garbage. He patted his stomach and took a slug of the soda.  
  
Next, Morse opened the candy and took a bite. He hated these things, but sometimes they were all he could find to raise his sugar levels. When he was done, he threw away the can and wrapper. He walked out to the car park.  
  
On the way home, he tuned in to the news station. “Oxford United look to be in good shape after a practice with the new manager. Thunderstorms expected tonight. Then over the weekend, snow.”  
  
“Snow?” Endeavour said, not believing what he had heard.  
  
“An unusual cold front has moved in over the sea,” the announcer continued, as if in response to the complaint. “Temperatures should drop late Friday evening.”  
  
Endeavour tapped the steering wheel. The light changed. He pressed the gas.  
  
A few minutes later, he got home. He parked the car and ran up to the door.  
  
Two lamps were on in the living room. There was no smell of food in the dining room. He flipped on the overhead lights.  
  
He saw a note on the table. He picked it up. “Made you something. It’s in the fridge. JT.”  
  
Endeavour opened the fridge door and saw that his dinner was a plate of sliced steak with broccoli. He put a pan on a burner and heat up the food. When it was all done, he scooped it onto a plate. Morse sat down at the table and was about to eat, when he thought of something.  
  
  
He walked to the bedroom and pushed the door open just a little. Joan lay on her side, facing the door. The lights were off. She was stretched out over the sheets. She’d probably resolved to just catch a little shut-eye before he came home, and then get up to welcome him. The best-laid plans of mice and men… well, women...  
  
Endeavour tapped his knuckles on the open door. “Hello?” he said.  
  
Joan sat up. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Hello.” She fumbled in the table drawer for a brush, and pulled it through her hair. Finally, she stepped into her slippers, and went to greet him.  
  
He kissed her. “Been all right today?”  
  
“I wish. I had a nosebleed at lunch. Rather heavy.”  
  
“Oh, no. Did you check with the doctor?”  
  
“Yes. It’s consistent with – what I have.” Earlier in the year, she’d found out she had leukemia. She was doing her best with the medications and doctor visits. Still, reality crept up on her sometimes.  
  
“Did they let you go early?”  
  
“No, I managed to complete the day.”  
  
“Did you eat?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Come with me.”  
  
They walked into the dining room. He opened the fridge and took out the bread and turkey. Minutes later, he handed her a plateful of sandwich.  
  
“Thank you.” Joan smiled. She began to eat. He did as well.  
  
She took a few bites, and got up to get something to drink. She brought them both fizzy colas. “This is really taking the energy out of me.” Joan wiped a hand over her forehead.  
  
“Do you have to have any surgery?”  
  
“Not as of now. I may need my spleen taken out, if things get bad. But none so far.”  
  
“Thank God.”  
  
Morse cleared his throat. “I spoke to your father today.”  
  
“That happens every day.” She grinned nervously. “What was different this time?”  
  
“He, ah, he said that two girls claimed I offered to steal a bike for them.”  
  
“You would never do that.”  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll be all right.”  
  
They finished dinner. She washed the dishes. He went to watch telly.  
  
When Joan completed the washing, she headed for the bedroom. “Sit with me,” Morse called out. He switched from his lounge chair to the couch, and patted the cushion next to him.  
  
Joan sat down. Endeavour touched her chin and pulled it toward him, so that Joan just leaned against him.  
  
“I like that better,” he said. She smiled.  
  
They watched a replay of a national team cricket match. At one point, both team’s managers had a long dispute with the umpire.  
  
“Huh. Never works,” Endeavour said.  
  
“They’ve still got to try.”  
  
On a commercial break, Joan put a hand on her stomach.  
  
“Food didn’t agree with you?” Endeavour asked.  
  
“Oh, it was fine.”  
  
“Are you up the duff?”  
  
Joan turned to look at him. “Well! Ah-” She laughed.  
  
“Do you know?”  
  
“I don’t. I’ll have to get a test.”  
  
“Do that.” Morse got up and went to the table, where the two of them always put the mail. He flipped through the letters. “Electric bill, water bill – here’s something. ‘Office of Child Welfare.’ It’s addressed to you.”  
  
He handed Joan the envelope. She opened it.  
  
“’Dear Ms. Thursday: This is to announce that your petition to adopt Mr. Simon Garnet, age eight, is denied.’” Joan gasped. “’His uncle and aunt, Leon and Angela Carson, have applied to adopt the child. As he is their blood relative, their application takes precedence.’ Oh, damn.” Joan dropped the letter in her lap and put a hand on her forehead.  
  
“That’s too bad,” Endeavour said. “You would have done well.”  
  
“I would have had to clean out the side room. Buy a couple of dressers...”  
  
“It’s all right. I would have helped.”  
  
Thursday sighed again. “You would have been a good father. Stepfather.”  
  
He hugged her to him. “You’ll get another chance.”  
  
“Do you think so?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
Thursday blew her nose. Some blood came out on the tissue. “What is this? I thought it had stopped for today.”  
  
“Does it usually happen at intervals like that?”  
  
“Yes, it can.” Joan wiped her nose and held the tissue in place. “I was just planning to go to sleep.”  
  
Morse went in the bathroom and got some aspirin, with a cup of water. He presented them to her. She took them.  
  
“Thank you,” Joan said. “I feel like having a drink now, after the letter, but it’s not safe.”  
  
Endeavour set his hand on her belly. Unable to sense the state of the skin, he slipped the hand under the shirt. “Just checking,” he said. “There.” It took a few seconds. Then he pulled his hand out of her shirt. “Skin seems firm.”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“I’d go to the doctor.”  
  
“I – I don’t want to.”  
  
“This is not a cold.”  
  
“It could be-”  
  
He went pale as he realized the Implications. “Yes, it could.”  
  
“What’s the matter?” Joan asked. “I thought you wanted to.”  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“Have a family.”  
  
“I do. I did.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Ah – I’d better-”  
  
He stood, to walk toward the kitchen and get a drink, but she blocked him.  
  
“What do you mean, Endeavour?”  
  
He blinked. “You never call me that. Why did you call me that?” He stared at her.  
  
“It’s just your name. My father told me it seven years ago. It’s not like it’s some magic spell that’ll turn you into a newt or something.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I think it’s nice.”  
  
“Well – thank you. Ah.” He pulled at his collar.  
  
“I have got to get you some casual shirts.”  
  
“Then I can just leave them in the dresser.”  
  
“You never relax at all. You don’t even say ‘Hi,’ only ‘Hello.’”  
  
“Shows you. I could have said it, at some point.”  
  
She shook her head. “Don’t believe you.”  
  
“I must have, in school.”  
  
“I’ll ask your teachers.”  
  
“You would.”  
  
They both laughed.  
  
“Well, if you are – what I think you are – there is no way you’re going to work the whole nine months. Or whatever remains.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“You can work maybe four or five. Then I have to ask you to stop. Just for your safety.”  
  
“Only you will be bringing in income in that time. I’ll have to remember to turn off the lights early.”  
  
“Let’s not drive ourselves crazy over pennies.” He kissed her. Then he did so a second time, and took longer.  
  
“Well,” she said, when she broke it off.  
  
“Well.”  
  
“If I am – as you say – you’d have to want it. There’s no way to be a good parent if you don’t really want to.”  
  
“Do you have a test now?”  
  
“I don’t even know. Let me see.”  
  
She went into the bathroom and rummaged in the cabinet under the sink. Behind his extra shaving cream, and some bandages, she found what she was looking for.  
  
Joan stuck her head out. “I’ll be a minute,” she said, and opened the test packet.  
  
She wondered why unmarried people were allowed to buy these tests, but not birth control. She took out the test capsule, and used it.  
  
Afterward, Joan shook the end and waited for the symbol to appear. Come on, minus. Come on.  
  
Outside, Endeavour paced back and forth. He crossed his arms.  
  
The bathroom door opened. Joan stepped out.  
  
Endeavour walked over. He raised his eyebrows.  
  
Joan nodded. “I am.”  
  
His jaw dropped. He stared.  
  
“What are we going to do?” she said.  
  
He turned around, and walked a few meters away.  
  
“Well?” Her voice rose in pitch.  
  
He breathed out heavily. He found that he could not turn around, even to face her.  
  
“Well?” she called again. Still he did not look at her.  
  
Joan went into the bedroom, and changed into a nightgown. As she brushed over the fabric, tears rolled down her face.  
  
She slipped under the covers. She realized they had no documents, no wedding, no rings, not even a phone bill in both their names, although she did write him a check every month for her share of expenses. She thought about looking for his check book, but did not have the energy to get out of bed.  
  
For a moment, Joan contemplated sneaking out, once Morse was asleep, and checking into a hotel. It would be deadly embarrassing to move back in with her parents, at this point.  
  
She did not carry out the plan. Morse came in, a few minutes later, and slipped under the sheets. He turned away from her. She stayed facing away from him.  


…

Morning, and work, took them away from each other.  
  
Joan spent the day updating files for Mrs. Law. She piled up a stack of them and clumped them on the woman’s desk.  
  
“Here,” Joan said. She felt a twinge in her belly. She leaned over and put a hand there.  
  
“Take it easy, Ms. Thursday. Do you need an antacid?” Vivian asked.  
  
“No, I don’t think so. But thank you.” Joan felt another pang, and kept her hand level.  
  
Mrs. Law crossed the room. She pushed a chair over from her side of the desk. “Sit down, dear.”  
  
Joan adjusted herself in the chair. “Whew.”  
  
“Now, dear.” Mrs. Law ushered herself into a seat. “I’ve had children. I know what it looks like.”  
  
“You won’t tell anyone, though?”  
  
“You are safe with me. Paul?” she called out, which brought her other assistant into view. “Order us some fish and chips, if you would.”  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Law.” Paul nodded. He was in his early twenties.  
  
“Extra packets of mustard, please.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
“Thank you.” The young man went to place the order. Mrs. Law put her hands on her lap. “Now. You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but are you getting married?”  
  
“It’s up in the air.”  
  
“Oh. Well, don’t worry about your job. You can stay here as long as you please.”  
  
Joan smiled. “Thank you. That’s a relief.”  
  
“Some people, they’re too old-fashioned. Not me. I say, as long as you do a good job, you are welcome.”  
  
Joan nodded.  
  
Vivian cleared off a table and put down a bottle of soda, some cups, and a bag of ice. “Did you hear about that row they had in Parliament? Grown men, punching each other. It’s loud enough, with as much yelling as they do.”  
  
“No, I didn’t hear about it. Tell me.”  
  
“You see...”  
  
Law began to explain. Ministers were arguing, as usual, when one of them bumped by accident into another. That set off the second man, who stood up and clobbered the bumper. Soon, a quarter of the House was involved, with the rest looking on in horror. The police had to be called.  
  
“That’s London for you. Though I imagine we’re not doing as well as we think we are, keeping the peace, in this town.” Mrs. Law slapped her legs.  
  
In time, the food arrived. “Sit down with us, Paul,” Vivian invited, and the three began to eat.  


…

At the station, Morse stared into the middle distance. He was supposed to be listening to Jim Strange, who was reminding everyone how to properly remove the casing from molds of footprints. Strange could tell Morse couldn’t care less.  
  
“Eh there, lad, have we offended you somehow?” Strange put his fists on the desk.  
  
“What was that, excuse me?”  
  
“Somebody fill this kid in on what he should have learned as a PC.”  
  
“I did learn it! I’ve never broken a shoe mold yet, in my-” Endeavour counted on his fingers. “All my years on the force.”  
  
“Don’t make me tell these people how old you are.” Jim popped a facetious smile. “This man doesn’t have a pet, doesn’t go to the gym, won’t say when his birthday is, never does a thing for Christmas or Easter or anything normal people do.”  
  
“I can’t see why those things are anyone else’s business.”  
  
“Normal people want to know about one another. Get used to it. Well, dismissed.” Jim turned to address the rest of the class. They left the room.  
  
Endeavour stood up. “Why did you make me sit through this, anyway? I know perfectly well how this procedure is supposed to go.”  
  
Jim held up two pieces, which were broken ends of the same shoe print. “Yours.”  
  
“Are you serious?”  
  
“As the flu.” Jim put down the pieces.  
  
“I don’t remember what case it was.”  
  
“The Sebastian case.”  
  
“No. It can’t be.”  
  
“Can indeed.”  
  
“Well, you could have put super glue on them and stuck them back together, right?”  
  
“Not when they’re supposed to be used on the stand!” Jim thundered.  
  
“Ah, all right, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”  
  
“This is the fifth major error in keeping evidence you’ve made this year. I was going to write a report about it.”  
  
Morse blinked. “Five? That can’t be. I follow every rule, every time.”  
  
Jim shook his head. “If that is what you’ve convinced yourself, you need another long holiday. It’s five, all right.”  
  
Endeavour put his hands in his pockets. “Bother.” Then he thought of something. He rolled up his sleeves. “Speaking of holidays.” He picked up the newspaper and flipped through it.  
  
“Who’s Mr. Adventure now?” Jim said. He put the evidence in a box and placed it back on the cart, for the civilian clerk to take away. He walked out of the room.  
  
Endeavour looked at a few ads. He circled one. “Weekend cruise up the coast.” He put a thumb on his chin.  
  
Then he crossed out the ad. The trip would just make Joan sick, on account of her condition. He also had to remember to phone her parents’ church, and see if they had any weekends open.  
  
They could just hurry to the courthouse. A few minutes to fill out the license, pay the fee, recite the words, and they were all finished. As good as anybody else.  
  
And she would hate it.  
  
Not because of the money. She had never asked him to buy her anything. Because he wanted to get it over with. A woman could smell someone whose heart was not really in it from miles away.  
  
Would he be helping her out, if he only tried to ‘do the right thing’? He rubbed a toe over the carpet. There was so much to worry about, with a baby on the way. He was going to be a father, for the first, and God help him, the only time.  
  
Morse put a hand to his temples. The only? What if he saw the child and he did want more?  
  
No more long nights out, trying to drink away his troubles. He’d have to sit home, talking to her. Listening to the baby squeal. Smelling the bin of dirty diapers. Oh, God, there was so much more to get, just at the store.  
  
Morse rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had time to sneak away to the pub.  
  
And then he didn’t. He heard Fred Thursday, walking down the hall, and talking to someone else.  
  
“London has kept you healthy, for a change,” Fred said.  
  
“Yes, it’s not easy to do,” said Shirley Trewlove.  
  
“I’ll say,” came a voice that jogged at Morse’s memory.  
  
The three came around the corner. Endeavour beheld the DCI, plus Shirley, and a tall man whose name he could not quite place.  
  
“There you are!” Fred said. “Look who’s come to visit us.” He pointed to Shirley.  
  
“Hello, Morse.” She smiled.  
  
“Welcome.” Endeavour gave a quick grin.  
  
“She’s almost ready to test for DC.” Fred gestured to the woman.  
  
“Well.” Morse didn’t know what else to say.  
  
“Oh, this is Bryan Lomax. He helped us on your first case, when you came to the old station,” Fred explained.  
  
That was it. “Hello,” Endeavour said.  
  
“I remember you.” Lomax smiled.  
  
“Well! Must be off, now,” Fred said. “You two have a good afternoon.”  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Shirley said. Fred headed for his office.  
  
Morse sat at his desk and removed his shoes and socks. His feet hurt like crazy. He looked them over.  
  
The bottom of each foot was peppered with green dots.  
  
“Oh, no,” Bryan said. “Do you have any powder?”  
  
“Yes, I do.” Morse rooted around in his desk, until he found the bottle of talcum. He shook it over the soles of his feet, and began to rub in the stuff with a tissue.  
  
Shirley straightened up. “Well, I’ve got to get back to London now.”  
  
“No you don’t,” Bryan said.  
  
“Oh, really?” Shirley flipped her hair over her shoulder and chuckled.  
  
“Hey, it’s me over here,” Morse said. “I’m the one with an injury.”  
  
“We’ll get some dinner,” Lomax said, and nodded to Shirley. They walked down the hallway.  
  
“Did you set them up, sir?” Endeavour asked.  
  
“Who, Shirley and Bryan? No, I did not.” He smiled. “Glad for them anyway.”  
  
“Who knows how people meet each other?”  
  
“Hmm, indeed.” Fred looked at Endeavour funny. “Who does.”  
  
Endeavour looked over his feet, and pronounced them as well-treated as he could make them at the moment. He put back on his socks and shoes, and stood up. He wiggled his feet a bit.  
  
“Looks okay to me,” he said, with a blithe grin.  
  
“Get them checked out, lad.” The DCI stood up and walked to the car park. Morse took his own jacket and followed.  
  
Endeavour got into his own car. He turned the key and thought for a minute. The doctor’s office ought to be open a bit longer. He’d stop there.  
  
Shortly, he parked at a meter, and put in a coin. He walked into the main office.  
  
“Hello, I’d like to see Dr. Langley, please?”  
  
“Are you a new client?” said the nurse.  
  
“No. I’ve been here before.”  
  
“Name?”  
  
“Morse.”  
  
“What’s the other one? Surely, that’s no one’s first name.”  
  
He sighed and took out his police ID. The nurse looked it over.  
  
“Fine. Fill out this paper and take a seat.”  
  
Endeavour eased into a seat and began to write on the paper. Soon, it was done. He handed it to the nurse. “Will I be seen quickly?”  
  
“As quickly as the doctor wants.” The nurse wrote something on a pad, then picked up the phone. “Oh, he is? I’ll send him in.” She hung up. “You can go now.”  
  
Endeavour walked down the hall. A man in his early fifties stood there. He wore a white jacket and had a salt-and-pepper beard. His name tag said Jerry Langley.  
  
“Mr. Morse, if you please, here.” The man gestured at the open door of a room. Endeavour went in and sat on the chair.  
  
“Let me look over your chart for a second. Hmm. You were last here months ago. What brings you in today?”  
  
“Look at this.” The detective removed his shoes and socks. He lifted up his feet. “What do you think that is, Doctor?” Morse panted. “I’m about to get married. I think it’s ‘cold feet,’ as they say.”  
  
“No. That is what happens when you walk around in a locker room and don’t wear socks or shoes. It’s athlete’s foot.”  
  
“Ah, are you sure?”  
  
“You just don’t want to get married.”  
  
“Hey, that’s not fair.”  
  
“It’s true.”  
  
“Are you saying it’s psychosomatic? That I’m just thinking it up?”  
  
“I’m saying you have athlete’s foot.”  
  
“Shouldn’t that be feet?”  
  
Dr. Langley grumbled as he went to his table and wrote a prescription. “Here. Go get married. And don’t stand her up.” He glared at Morse and handed him the paper.  
  
Morse took a quick minute to drop off the scrip at a chemist’s. He received the box of gel, and got back in his car. The drive took longer than usual. He had to stop for a school bus. He wondered why they were out this late. Maybe they had taken a field trip.  
  
Was he ready to be a father? He was in his thirties now. Most people were married already. Well, women. Men could wait, maybe a little longer.  
  
Or...  
  
His mind flashed back to being in the Thursdays’ living room, at their party, last Christmas. “Young man,” Winifred told him, swirling around her glass of brandy, “what do you think you’ll look like when you’re seventy-two?”  
  
He’d blinked. “I don’t know, ma’am.”  
  
“Let’s put it this way. Not the way you look now.”  
  
“Do you have to put it quite that way?”  
  
“If you think that you’ll still be able to pull in a bar, at that age, you should live in another country.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
“If you want to do something about loneliness, now’s the time. It takes years to get it right.”  
  
Mrs. Thursday had put down her glass and gone to use the washroom. He had shrugged, and blushed, because he never knew what to do about these things.  
  
No. He froze in fear, because he never wanted to confront these things.  
  
That was why he was prey to bad relationships. Just smile, drink, repeat process, have sex as soon as possible, and don’t try to learn anything about her. Don’t look any deeper than what side of the bed she’d let him sleep on.  
  
Joan was… too – something. It was rattling around in the back of his mind.  
  
Nice. That was it. She was too kind, and sweet, and far too normal. And now that he’d gotten her up the duff, he felt like she was going to rob him.  
  
They’d get married, and he would immediately feel cold inside, and stop spending much time with her, and she would be left to deal with the child – not to mention the leukemia – by herself. Which was not a way to live. They’d have to split the bank account, because Joan earned half of diddly squat, and then it was goodbye to his last nerve.  
  
Unless.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be that way, young man,” Mrs. Thursday had said, before Morse left the Christmas party. “You can make your life any way you want to.”  
  
And she’d smiled.  
  
Endeavour looked at his hands and realized they were no longer swinging the steering wheel. He had parked, and been sitting in front of his house for several minutes.  
  
He got out, and opened the door. The lights were on. The interior was warm. He heard the faint sound of a radio, tuned to the news station. Ah, good. She was home.  
  
Endeavour hung up his coat. He pulled at the buttons of his sleeves.  
  
“Hello,” he called out.  
  
Joan walked out of the interior. She embraced him and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
“Try that again,” he said, and kissed her on the lips. “Better.”  
  
“I went to the doctor today.”  
  
“Oh?” His eyebrows went up.  
  
“They took an ultrasound. It’s, ah, it looking rougher than they wanted it to.”  
  
“It?”  
  
“I asked them not to tell me if it’s a boy or a girl.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“It’s not growing very much.”  
  
He hugged her to him, and patted her on the back. “Did the doctor say anything else?”  
  
“Just that I should come in for another check-up, in two weeks. If he sees it’s not growing again, he’ll recommend for a-” She waved her hand. “Dilation. Where they remove it.”  
  
“I don’t want that,” he said.  
  
“Nor do I.”  
  
“Let’s think of something else.”  
  
“There’s cod for dinner.”  
  
Endeavour sat down at the table. Joan set out two plates, filled with fish, broccoli, and chips. She poured a beer for him, and had some cranberry juice for herself.  
  
“Have you thought of any names?” Joan asked.  
  
“Thomas, for a boy. For a girl? Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Zoe?”  
  
“Hmm, possible.” She smiled.  
  
When dinner was done, Joan put the plates in the sink, and the both of them sat down on the couch to watch television. The movie was ‘A Man for All Seasons.’  
  
“The telly won’t show you the part where they cut his head off,” Endeavour said.  
  
“Morse!” Joan called out, and tapped him sharply on the arm.  
  
“That’s probably the best part.”  
  
“It was in a church!”  
  
“Still. You’d think they’d know, and wouldn’t edit it out for ‘sensitivity’ or something.”  
  
Joan sighed. “What movies did you watch as a kid?”  
  
“Hmm, don’t remember most of them.”  
  
“Any horror?”  
  
“Could have been.”  
  
Joan sighed.  
  
“I’ll have to put money aside for the baby,” Endeavour said. “The kid’s going to need a crib, diapers, toys, that sort of thing.”  
  
“We can hold off on a tricycle for a year or two,” Joan said, and leaned on his shoulder.  
  
“That’s something.”  
  
“I’ll ask my Mom to go to the charity shops.”  
  
“Yeah, do.”  
  
“In a few more months, if all goes well-” Joan put a hand on her stomach. “You can tell the people at the station.”  
  
“You will bring the little imp by when it’s born.”  
  
“Is that an order?”  
  
“It is.”  
  
They kissed. Afterward, Morse got up and shut off the television.  
  
He stretched and yawned. “What a day.”  
  
“Does that mean you’re going to be to tired to-?” With a little smile, she stepped up to him, and put a hand on his chest.  
  
“Perish the thought,” he said. He led her into the bedroom.  


…

Morse returned to work the next Monday. He hung up his coat and sat at his desk. There was a note from Jim.  
  
“’Adoption people called. Said call back.’” There was a number on the paper. Endeavour picked up the phone and dialed.  
  
A woman answered. “Department of Adoption, Jenny speaking, how may I help you?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am, I’m Detective Sergeant Morse, with the Thames Valley Police. I got a message to call this office.”  
  
“Yes, I placed the call. I’m Jennifer Thompson. I handle applications. We came back with something your department might be interested to know.”  
  
“Please go on.”  
  
“I tried to contact Ms. Joan Thursday first, but she was unavailable at work.”  
  
“Yes, I see.”  
  
“She put your name on the forms as well. That’s how I knew to call you.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“See, I did some looking, and the same pictures of the prospective adopters for Mr. Garnet have been submitted on adoptions of ten other children.”  
  
“Aha.”  
  
“Same pictures, different names. Of the parents.”  
  
“Say again?” He got out a notepad and hurriedly started to write.  
  
“I don’t know why we didn’t catch this before. It’s a big department.”  
  
“Glad you noticed it.”  
  
“Thank you. See, the names on the papers for Simon Garnet are Leon and Angela Carson, but they also list themselves as Harry and Tina Diaz, Alvin and Betty Peak – there are a lot of these.”  
  
“Could you make a list for me?”  
  
“I will do that. Can you stop here before the end of the day?”  
  
“Yes. I should be there within the hour.”  
  
“Very good. I will see you.”  
  
“Goodbye.” He hung up.  
  
Morse ran for his car.  


…

He got to the Department of Family Services and sought out the correct office’s door. He knocked.  
  
“Come in,” a voice said.  
  
The sign on the desk said Jennifer Thompson. Morse addressed her. “Miss Thompson, I’m here to speak to you about the matter we discussed on the phone.”  
  
Jennifer smiled, and turned to a chair, on which there were many files stacked up. She grabbed them and plopped them down on the center of her desk. “These are the files relevant to the attempt at adoptions, by the couple in question. For now, we’ll go with the names Angela and Leon.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“They were permitted to meet with Mr. Garnet a couple of days ago.”  
  
Endeavour’s eyebrows flew up. “Really?”  
  
“Yes. They only spoke to him a couple of minutes. Hello, and whatnot.”  
  
“Then what did they do?”  
  
“They talked a lot about finding a bus pass, and going to the bank. They repeatedly asked me how long it would take their check to go through.”  
  
“Hmm. What next?”  
  
“Well, they just got out of there. I didn’t see where they went.”  
  
“Do you have security cameras?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I would like to see the footage.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Thompson took Morse to the security department. She fiddled with the dials of the viewer.  
  
“There,” she said. “These two.”  
  
She pointed to the supposed Angela and Leon. They could be seen gesturing to one another as they walked out the door.  
  
“Wish they’d face the camera,” Morse said.  
  
“Yes, but they didn’t.” Jennifer shut off the machinery and turned to face him. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”  
  
“If you would, please make a copy of the tape and send it to the police station. My name’s Morse, again.”  
  
“First name?”  
  
“Ah – I have to get going very soon, no time to chat.”  
  
“Oh. I’ll see you, then.”  
  
“Thank you very much. You’ve been very helpful.”  
  
He ran out of there and back to his car. He resolved to get a drink from a petrol station, as soon as he found one.  
  
Endeavour soon located a sign, and pulled over. He paid the pump worker, and waited as the man filled up the car.  
  
When the man finished, Morse stuck another pound note out the window. “Get me a fizzy drink as well? One of those low-sugar ones?”  
  
“Yes,” the worker said, and ran to get it. He handed Morse the soda and some coins. “Drive safely.”  
  
“I’ll try,” Endeavour said, and pressed the gas.  
  
A half kilometer from home, a strange noise began to sound, from under the hood. Morse jammed the pedal, hoping he didn’t have a leak somewhere in the machinery.  
  
God knew what it was. The car suddenly came to a halt.  
  
Swearing, Endeavour got up and lifted the hood. He couldn’t tell what was wrong. He slammed it down and tried to start the car. Somehow, it worked.  
  
Moving very slowly, Endeavour made it the last distance to the house. He shut off the ignition and climbed out. Morse stared at the car for a minute, then turned and walked inside.  
  
The radio was on. He could see Joan standing in the kitchen. She had a pot of pasta and was stirring the hot water.  
  
“Hello,” he said. Endeavour sat on the couch.  
  
Joan took the barrette out of her hair and shook her locks. She set the wooden spoon on the counter, and went to meet him.  
  
She hugged him around the neck. “Hi. I’ll get the mail.”  
  
When she pulled away, he tugged back. She fell into the hollow of his shoulder. “Oh!” she said. He would not let go.  
  
“Morse,” she said, laughing, “stop!”  
  
He gently twisted her body down, so that they were both stretched out on the couch.  
  
“That’s better,” he said, and began to kiss her.  
  
In no time, however, Joan heard the sound of the pasta beginning to boil over. “I’ve got to stop the water,” she said, and wriggled out from under him.  
  
“Hey!” he said, but she had already dashed to the stove and shut off the power.  
  
Joan put the pot on a cold stanchion. Then she set up a colander and poured the whole business into it. Soon, she had scooped the food into two bowls.  
  
Endeavour strolled over to the table. “As the only food critic in the room, I say we wait.” He put his hand on the back of a chair.  
  
“But then it’ll be cold. Sit down, eat.”  
  
She was already eating before Morse finally sat down. Reluctantly, he spooned up some food.  
  
“Any progress at the station?” Joan asked.  
  
“I found out something about the people who wanted to adopt young Mister Garnet.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“They also have ID cards in a slew of other names.”  
  
She blinked. “Crikey.”  
  
“Yes. They stopped at the adoption office the other day, but I didn’t see their faces on the footage.”  
  
“Too bad.” She looked at him. “If they’re carrying around fake IDs, what else are they faking? And why do they want the child?”  
  
“Good catch,” he said. “Could be part of an organization.”  
  
Joan shuddered. “How terrible.”  
  
“We got some film from the adoption place, so we’ll be looking at it tomorrow.” Endeavour chewed some pasta.  
  
“Can you get one of them to meet you alone?”  
  
“I’ll have to try.”  
  
“Do they have a prior record of pulling things like this?”  
  
“That’s another thing I’ve got to check tomorrow.”  
  
She nodded. “I spoke to my mother. Just told her things are proceeding as normal. No need to scare her yet.”  
  
“Hmm.” He tilted his head. “I didn’t talk to your father much today.”  
  
“Wonder if he’s running around getting sporting goods or something.”  
  
“I think he’ll leave that to your mother.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
They ate for a while longer. Then he took both their dishes to the sink. Quickly, he ran some water over them, and left them in the basin.  
  
“I guess you’ve been doing that a lot longer than I’ve been here.” She put a hand on his arm.  
  
“I don’t like being sloppy.”  
  
“A holdover from your Army days?”  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
“I heard a joke.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What do you call a Quaker who smokes, drinks, and has sex whenever he wants?”  
  
He narrowed his eyes. “What?”  
  
“Richard Nixon.” She put a hand over her mouth.  
  
“Hey. I’m not the one who’s bombing another country.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“You are not. Come here.”  
  
She walked over. He kissed her.  
  
Then he pulled back. “Why do you always close your eyes?”  
  
“Don’t know.”  
  
They kissed again.  
  
“Keep your eyes open,” he gently admonished. “Like this.”  
  
He leaned in. A split second later, she drew back, giggling.  
  
“I can’t!” she said.  
  
“I owe you for that Nixon comment. Come on.”  
  
He pushed open the door of the bedroom, and picked her up, so that her feet just hovered above the floor. “Hey!” she said.  
  
He turned around and pulled her into his lap. “If I can’t make you pay attention now-”  
  
“Oh, I’m paying attention.” She leaned in and kissed him.  
  
Joan fell forward, until Endeavour was underneath her. They continued to kiss.  
  
She straightened up a little, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. “This would be much easier if you would just let me get you a casual shirt.”  
  
“Let me help.” He stretched out his arms and pulled off the shirt. He threw it aside.  
  
“And this.” She tugged up the hem of his undershirt.  
  
…

Some time later, they rested.  
  
Joan pulled the sheets up to her shoulders, and sighed. “Going to be very different soon. Once I have the baby, and if we get to adopt Simon-”  
  
“We’ll be all right. Other couples do this all the time.”  
  
“Yes.” She sighed. “I should talk to my parents. And get some books.”  
  
“Your Mom and Dad will be there.”  
  
She nodded. “I bet they’ll be good at being grandparents.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
Joan faced away from him and pressed her head into the pillow. Endeavour leaned over and put a hand on her stomach.  
  
“Still okay?” he said.  
  
“So far.”  
  
“No pain?”  
  
“No, but the skin is still taut.”  
  
“I want you to go to the doctor.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“Got to pick up my insulin from the chemist’s tomorrow.”  
  
“Mm-hmm.” She flexed her legs a bit. “Wonder what kind of music the boy will like. What classes he’ll be good at in school.”  
  
“We’ll see.”  
  
“I guess we can wait on some things.”  
  
“Yeah.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Get some sleep.”  
  
“Okay.” 

…  
  
He woke up early and left before her.  
  
Joan called the office and left a message that she’d be in late. She headed for the doctor’s office.  
  
There was almost no one else on the bus; it was the last trip before everyone had to get to work.  
  
“I could almost drive this bus,” Joan quipped to the driver. “I’ve been on this carrier so many times.” The man grinned at her and shut the doors.  
  
They stopped at her station. Thursday got off the bus and hurried into the front office. “Hello, I’m here to see Dr. Baldwin.”  
  
“Oh yes,” said the clerk, “she’ll see you right now.”  
  
Joan signed the log book, and walked right in. She wandered around a bit, before Dr. Veronica Baldwin stepped out into the hallway, and beckoned her into the office.  
  
“I had a couple of people cancel, so I had time for you,” Baldwin said. “What seems to be the trouble? Is this a regular check-up?”  
  
“No,” Joan said. “I’m afraid not.”

  


Endeavour parked his car and went into the building. The Lancia had survived the commute without too many funny noises. He would stay with it a little while.  
  
When he got to the office, there was a note on the desk. Someone just leaving the night shift must have put it there. He couldn’t read all of it, but some of it was legible: “Woman found, at night, trying to pass bad check. Go with (unclear) at Department of Births and Deaths.” Well, that was happy reading.  
  
Jim Strange walked up. “Oh, you’re here? I’ve been here for six hours. Can’t wait to go home.”  
  
“Did they switch you with someone?”  
  
“Yes, a Ms. Shirley Trewlove.”  
  
“What? She came back?”  
  
“Yes. They wanted her to get right back into the swing of things, so they put her on my normal hours, and that means I get to hang out with all the people you don’t want to see.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“They must have given her back her old rank.”  
  
“She’s close to WDC now. She’ll take the test pretty soon.”  
  
“You could have some competition.”  
  
“Yeah. Not afraid, either.”  
  
“You’re scared out of your shoes.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“No, you.”  
  
“Boys, boys, what is this?” Mr. Bright said, walking between them.  
  
“Sorry, sir, I was just trying to educate the young man on competition.”  
  
“Aren’t you several years his junior?”  
  
“Eh, sir, as a matter of fact-” Jim ran a finger under his collar.  
  
“As you were,” Bright said, and rushed off to his own office.  
  
“I was trying to tell you, Shirl’s been hanging out with that Bryan fellow all the time. Damned if he didn’t get her a ring.”  
  
“Already?” Endeavour said. “What’s it been, days?”  
  
“I guess. Well, they say some people just know.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” Jim slapped Morse on the shoulder. “Good luck figuring out whatever you’ll be ready for.” He grinned, and walked down the hall.  
  
Morse sneered and headed for the car park. 

  


He made his way to the Hall of Records, of which the Department of Births and Deaths was one sector. A clerk helped point him to the correct office. He had to wait on line. There were already people here to complain. He had never been at a government office which didn’t have a line of willing complainers. That included his own.  
  
At last, he got to the front. “I need to find a woman. Might be named Angela Carson.”  
  
“Oh! We found her just as things were getting going today.” The clerk put down her notepad and waved toward the other side of the room. “She was trying to open the cabinet, with a screwdriver. We have her over there. In Bart Spengler’s office.”  
  
Endeavour looked. There was indeed a plate on the door, which read ‘B. Spengler.’ “Thank you,” he said to the woman, and crossed the room.  
  
He knocked on the door. Someone pushed it open.  
  
Endeavour stepped inside. Two women, one white and black, were pushing and punching each other, and bouncing off the shelves.  
  
“Stop this!” he shouted, and tried to pry the women off each other. The black woman shoved him back so hard, he fell against the stacks of folders.  
  
“That’s battery on a police officer!” Morse said, and took out his ID card.  
  
The woman pulled a pistol on him.  
  
Endeavour’s eyes went wide. “Now, ma’am, I don’t know what’s wrong, but-”  
  
“I want my son.” The woman narrowed her eyes.  
  
“I’m Patricia Lyman,” said the white woman. “I don’t know what’s going on. I was just doing my job, starting to organize the files, when I caught her rummaging around in things. I asked her what was going on. She handed me a check. I called the bank. It was invalid.”  
  
“You didn’t have to call the bank. That was a dirty trick.”  
  
“It’s standard procedure, whenever we see oddities.”  
  
“There was nothing odd about the check! You should have just deposited it! It was for the adoption fee. For little Simon.”  
  
“You can’t buy children as if they’re furniture.” The white woman pulled at the bottom of her shirt. “Please. Just don’t hurt anybody.”  
  
“Get Simon. Bring him to me.” The woman pulled back the hammer on the gun.  
  
“You don’t want to do that,” Morse said. “That’ll only make things worse.”  
  
“I want to.”  
  
“You’re Angela, right?” Endeavour asked.  
  
“Yeah.” The woman blinked.  
  
“And you came here to try to pay the fee for the adoption of a child.”  
  
“Yes. Simon Diamond.”  
  
Endeavour blinked. “Is that his name?”  
  
“Yes. He doesn’t have a home. I just want to help him. Now give me my son.”  
  
“Okay, ma’am, we will. Everything’s going to be fine.”  
  
“I don’t trust you!” Angela lowered the point of the gun until it aimed at the middle of Endeavour’s chest.  
  
Patricia reached for the phone. Angela fired once, knocking the phone off the desk, and then once into Lyman’s chest.  
  
At the same moment, Morse jumped out and grabbed Carson’s hand. He wrestled her down. She dropped the gun. He took the handcuffs out of his coat and put them on her. “Angela Carson, if that is your real name, I am arresting you-”  
  
He rushed through the formula and let Angela lean on the desk. He checked Patricia’s pulse.  
  
There was absolutely nothing.  
  
He called an ambulance.

  


…

Once arrested, Angela gave up Leon’s location, a car shop on the other side of town. A squad went to bring him in.  
  
Patricia Lyman was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. The nurses began to phone the woman’s relatives.  
  
It was hours before Morse was allowed to go home. DCI Thursday came out to meet him.  
  
“How are you doing, lad?” the older officer asked. “You’ve been through it today, haven’t you?”  
  
“Not as bad as Ms. Lyman.”  
  
“That’s a shame. Well, the charges against Mrs. Carson will include murder now, as well as check fraud, and a few other things.”  
  
Morse nodded. “What will Leon be charged with?”  
  
“Conspiracy.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“I checked with the safe house. The little boy is very afraid right now.”  
  
“As I’d expect.”  
  
“Yes. I left a message at Joan’s office. Don’t know if she got it before she left work.”  
  
Endeavour nodded again.  
  
“Go on home, lad. I brought another officer, to drive for you. I can follow you. You’re much too frazzled to take the wheel right now. And don’t bother coming in tomorrow. You need the day off.”  
  
“All right,” Endeavour said, slowly putting on his coat.  
  
They walked to Morse’s car. The extra driver was Robert Lewis.  
  
“Hello, sir,” Robert said. Morse gave him the keys.  
  
It took them a long time to get to Endeavour’s house. There was one light on in the living room.  
  
Lewis accompanied Morse to the front door. Then he waved goodbye, and walked down to Thursday’s car. The DCI drove off.  
  
Morse hung up his jacket and looked around the room. He didn’t see Joan.  
  
Then, she emerged from the bathroom. “It’s you. Oh Lord, you’ve had a day.”  
  
She threw her arms around his neck. He kissed her.  
  
“How much did you hear?” Morse asked.  
  
“Snippets,” Joan said. “I’ve been calling back and forth with Mom all evening.”  
  
“I went into the file room, and Angela and Patricia were already fighting. I got them apart, but Angela took out a gun.”  
  
“Oh, horrible.”  
  
Joan dashed in the kitchen and came back with a beer. She had a glass of orange juice for herself.  
  
Endeavour drank, and continued his story. “Mrs. Carson couldn’t even remember Simon’s last name.”  
  
“Oh.” Joan patted him on the arm. “The poor kid. Has anyone spoken to him?”  
  
“Yes. Your father says he got through to the safe house. The child is understandably very frightened.”  
  
“I hope they don’t let him go with anyone else. How terrible, what’s happened in his life.”  
  
“Hmm.” He walked off to the bathroom.  
  
Joan changed into a nightgown, and got under the covers. Endeavour came in, and threw his shirt and slacks into the hamper.  
  
He hadn’t been under the sheets two seconds, when he sat up. “I forgot to get the insulin!” he shouted.  
  
“It’s in the bathroom. I picked it up.” Joan pointed.  
  
“Thank you. Guess I didn’t look in the cabinet.”  
  
“Not a problem.”  
  
He sank back into the bedding. “I don’t have to go in tomorrow.”  
  
“Good. Get some rest.”  
  
“Do you have to go in?”  
  
“I think I’ll call Mrs. Law’s office first thing in the morning.”  
  
“Good. Do that.” He groaned, and rolled side to side. “I’m too tired tonight, you know...”  
  
“Understood,” she said, and lay facing him.

  


…

  


Weeks passed. Endeavour went back to work, and secretly, to counseling. He didn’t want anyone else to find out. But go he did, and he found that it helped him.  
  
Joan’s belly stayed the same size. She went back for an ultrasound. The doctor could just detect the baby’s heartbeat. She ordered Joan to eat more. Thursday was reluctant to, but did so.  
  
Then a letter arrived in the mail. Joan had picked it up, noticing her name on it. She tore it open.  
  
“’Dear Ms. Thursday, you are ordered to appear… hearing to determine custody...’” She cried out.  
  
Morse was not home yet. Joan picked up the phone and dialed her mother.  
  
It rang several times before Win picked up. “Hello?”  
  
“Hi, Mom, this is Joan.”  
  
“I know your voice.” Mom smiled.  
  
“I got a letter from the adoption office. It says I can go to another hearing.”  
  
“For another child? Darling, you must have so much stress, it’s not the right time to try again.”  
  
“No, for Simon.”  
  
“Really? Oh, that’s what I’ve always wanted for you. Does Morse know?”  
  
“He doesn’t. The letter says the hearing is on Tuesday. That’s tomorrow. It’s at nine in the morning. I wonder if I’ll get any sleep.”  
  
“Don’t take pills. Just go to bed early.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“I’ll tell your father.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“And I have to call Sam.”  
  
“You can do that.”  
  
“Do you need to bring anything? Let’s see. Don’t forget your driver’s license, and Morse’s mortgage receipts, and your canceled checks – bring everything.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“Okay, then. I’ll try to be there.”  
  
“Thanks, Mom. Tell Dad I love him.”  
  
“I will. Bye now.”  
  
“Bye, Mom.”  
  
Joan hung up. She read the letter again and again. She waved it up and down.

  


…

When Morse got home, he couldn’t believe his ears. “Another hearing? Are you joking?” He took the paper and looked at it. “You’re not. I’m going to be a father.”  
  
“Twice in one year.”  
  
“Ha!” He kissed her for a long time. Then he rushed to the kitchen, to get wine for himself, and juice for her.  
  
“We haven’t won yet,” Joan called. “I hope we do. A child needs a home.”  
  
“That he does.” Morse handed her a drink, and tipped his glass to hers. “To your health. And the kids.” He was absolutely beaming.  
  
“You’re looking forward to this,” Joan said.  
  
“That I am.”  
  
“We didn’t really get Simon any clothing. Maybe he brought a few things with himself.”  
  
“I can go tomorrow.”  
  
“We should all go.”  
  
“Good idea.”  
  
Endeavour threw some vegetables in a pan to roast, while Joan put together some pork chops and lime juice. When it was done, Joan put it on plates.  
  
Morse rushed to find a candle. He lit it and put it in a stander. “Are you nervous?” he said.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Myself as well. We’ll learn as we go along, I gather.”  
  
“People always do.”  
  
“Are you going to check the young fellow’s homework?”  
  
“Every day.”  
  
“I will too. I aim to be a better father than my Dad.”  
  
She nodded. “Good of you.”  
  
When they were done eating, she washed the dishes. He got up and stretched. “It’s going to be different.”  
  
“Yes, it will.”  
  
“You’ve got to get your rest tonight. We should be there just before nine.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“So we won’t...” He barely smiled.  
  
“Okay, then.”  
  
They stepped into the bedroom. He sat down and began to remove his slacks and shirt. He threw these into the hamper.  
  
“Maybe I’ll get us a new washer and a dryer. Can’t have these old ones breaking down. Cleanliness is too important.”  
  
She laughed. “You’re too thrifty.”  
  
“When it’s time, it’s time.”  
  
She kissed him. He took hold of her face and held her there.  
  
“On second thought-” he said.

  


…

The next day, they got up early, and were at the courthouse in time for the proceeding. They lined up at the security guards’ station. Both made it through all right.  
  
A guard pointed the way to the room in which the hearing was to be held. They walked in. The place had about fifteen people in it, including the judge. The Thursdays were also in attendance.  
  
Joan spotted Simon across the room. She waved. He did not notice. She shrugged.  
  
The judge began to speak. The nameplate on the bench said Ferdinand Gerhart. “Good morning. This is a hearing for the adoption of Simon Garnet by Joan Thursday. Are all parties present?”  
  
“Yes, milord.” Joan stood up and nodded.  
  
“Yes, judge,” Simon said.  
  
“Let’s begin.”  
  
Judge Gerhart had everyone sworn in. Then he went through a series of questions about the lives of Joan and Simon. Endeavour sat and watched.  
  
“You are a social worker, correct?” Gerhart asked Joan.  
  
“Yes, I am.”  
  
“And what is your opinion of what has happened to this child, given recent events?”  
  
“He must undergo therapy, I believe. It’s to help him. No one could be unaffected by what happened to him.”  
  
“I see.” The judge scratched his nose. “The day we get a new thermostat in this courtroom is the day I rejoice.” Everyone smiled. “Can’t believe it’s so hot. Where was I? Oh, yes. Young lady, I would concur with your belief.”  
  
“Thank you,” Joan said.  
  
“Now, young man,” the judge said to Simon. “What is your opinion of this woman?”  
  
“She’s nice.” Simon stood up, and fidgeted. Joan’s parents smiled.  
  
The judge asked many questions of Simon. When he was satisfied with the answers, he called for a short break.  
  
“Everyone take fifteen minutes. Use the restroom, wash your hands, buy a snack. Thank you.” He tapped the gavel on the bench and walked outside.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Thursday rushed over. “How are you?” her father said.  
  
“Nervous. Very nervous,” Joan said. Endeavour nodded.  
  
Simon was under the watchful eye of a security guard. “Can we get him something from a vending machine?” Morse said, scratching his own right ear.  
  
“Let’s go,” Fred said. The four of them walked down to the machines.  
  
A few coins later, all of them had bought little packets of food. Win opened her granola bar and took a bite. “Not bad,” she said.  
  
Joan ate some corn crisps. “Cheese flavor. Could do with a bit less cheese.”  
  
“I got him a chocolate miniature cake,” Endeavour said. “I’ll give it to the guard.”  
  
When they got back into the courtroom, Morse did just that. The guard looked over the package, and handed it to Simon. The child hurried to pull open the packet. He devoured the cake in seconds.  
  
The judge came back. He tapped the gavel. “We are in session again. I will give you my ruling.” He tucked his robe underneath himself. “Ms. Thursday, come forward.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Joan stepped up in front of the bench.  
  
“I have listened to all the evidence, and I fail to see any defect in your character which would prevent you from being a good parent. Mr. Garnet likewise has provided me with no negative information about you. It is the opinion of this court that you should become Simon Garnet’s mother, from this day forward.” He swung the gavel. “So ordered.”  
  
“Thank you, Judge,” Joan said, and beamed. She stepped forward, and hugged Simon to her.  
  
“Are you two planning to-” Ferdinand pointed at Joan and Endeavour. The judge pointed to the ring finger of his left hand.  
  
“Can we fill out the paperwork here?” Morse asked.  
  
“Yes, you may. Clerk, bring me the form.” The clerk handed the judge a piece of paper. “Come forward,” Ferdinand said. Both people stepped up. “Here’s a pen.”  
  
Each person filled out their name and the date. “Good,” said Gerhart. He took out a stamp and marked the paper. Then he signed his own name. “Each of you, repeat after me. I, state your name… know of no lawful reason… why I may not take you as my spouse...”  
  
He went on for a little while. Then he smiled.  
  
“Wherefore, I pronounce that they are husband and wife. Congratulations.”  
  
“I don’t have rings,” Endeavour said.  
  
“You can buy them later.” The judge grinned.  
  
Endeavour and Joan kissed. Mr. and Mrs. Thursday applauded. Win began to cry.  
  
Simon ran forward. “Thanks, Mom and Dad. Do I get to stay at your house?”  
  
“Of course,” Endeavour said. “Kid already called me Dad.” He hugged his new son. Joan did so next.  
  
“We’ll have to clear out the side room. You may have to sleep on the couch tonight.” Joan wiped tears off her face.  
  
“Don’t be silly. The boy can stay at our house tonight. You two have – things to do.” Fred smiled knowingly.  
  
Win took a copy of the license from the judge. She shook his hand.  
  
“Thank you for your kindness, sir.”  
  
“Not a problem. Best of luck to all of you.”  
  
“Bye now.”  
  
Winifred turned and walked out, with all the others. 

  


…

“Now, we have to eat,” Morse said, as he stepped out onto the street.  
  
“What sounds nice? Do you prefer Japanese, Indian, something like that?” Win asked him.  
  
“I think I know a good one.” Endeavour grinned.  
  
“We’ll say goodbye to you now, and take the kid out,” Fred said. He turned and spoke to Simon. “What do you like? Hey, you’re my grandson now. Give me a hug.” Fred held out his arms.  
  
Simon gladly returned the request. “Hi, Grandpa. Hi, Grandma.” Win embraced him as well. “Can we get Mexican food?”  
  
“I’ll find a place,” Fred told him. “Let’s get going.” He stepped up to Endeavour and pounded him on the back. “Congratulations, son.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”  
  
Next Fred hugged his daughter. “Congratulations. I know you’ll be fine.”  
  
“Thanks, Dad.”  
  
“Here,” Win said, handing the marriage license to Joan. “Keep it well.”  
  
“Now, let’s go,” Fred said, getting into the car. “Las Palmas Restaurant has perfect enchiladas.”  
  
He drove off.  


…

Meanwhile, Endeavour eased the Lancia into traffic. He turned up the radio. A lovely air was playing on the classical station.  
  
Joan smiled and eased back into the chair. “This is our big day.”  
  
“It is.” He adjusted the mirror. “How are you doing as far as, you know-?”  
  
“Still there.” She put a hand on her stomach. “I hope she or he is growing properly.”  
  
“Some of us are just – born a little small.” He gulped. “I’d like to go home and pack a few things.”  
  
“For the honeymoon?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Certainly.” Joan smiled.  
  
They reached his house and went in. Each packed changes of clothing, and sundries for the restroom.  
  
“Where are we going?” Joan said.  
  
“Oh, another national park. Couple hours away.”  
  
“Care to tell me which one?”  
  
“You’ll see it when we get there.”  
  
She smiled and kissed him. He carried their bags to the car.  
  
“I need to pick up a little something first,” he said, as he cranked the ignition.  
  
“All right.” She wiggled her neck against the seat. “Mind if I get a little sleep?”  
  
“Not at all,” he said, and turned the wheel.  
  
In town, he stopped at a block of shops. He checked the other seat. Miss Thursday slept with her hair falling everywhere. He smiled.  
  
Minutes later, he came back. He had a couple of small paper bags with him. He placed them on the back seat.  
  
Miss Thursday woke up. “What did I miss?”  
  
“Bought some supplies. Something to drink. Couple other things.”  
  
“Oh. Sure.” She smiled briefly, and sank back into the seat.  
  
“Well? Aren’t you going to bother me about something? Should I change the radio to a pop station? Offer you a cigarette?”  
  
She laughed. “I don’t smoke anymore. Listen to what you want. Our tastes are different, that’s all.”  
  
He pulled out into traffic. “You are going to fight with me about something, though?”  
  
“I don’t like to fight!” She laughed.  
  
“Go on, pick something.”  
  
“All right. You never told me when your birthday is. So I can’t get you anything.”  
  
“Well, that’s one thing you don’t have to forget.”  
  
She snorted. “You.”  
  
They got to the motorway. Miss Thursday fell asleep again. Endeavour tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, to the beat of the music.  
  
The kilometers wore away, until Morse reached the correct exit. He made his way to the hotel, and parked.  
  
“Get up. We’re here.” He shook Miss Thursday’s shoulder.  
  
She sat up. “Oh, thank you.” Then she turned to look at the building. “Beautiful,” she said. The structure was a wide rectangle, made of bricks, with white pillars out front. The sign said, ‘The Sullivan.’  
  
They got out. Morse took their bags from the trunk and put them on a cart. Joan tugged the cart into the lobby.  
  
Endeavour waited in the queue, behind an elderly woman, and a man with a young son. The woman asked a series of questions, and the clerk took his time answering her. Morse twisted his feet back and forth. Then the man and child stepped up. They used up several minutes as well.  
  
Endeavour was just about to hand the two a booklet about the forest and tell them to leave, when they stepped away, having taken a key and papers from the concierge. It was his turn at last.  
  
“I’ll have a room for two nights,” he said. “Non-smoking.”  
  
“Right. The pool’s not in service, sorry. Wrong time of the year. Everything else should be just fine. There are bus tours two times a day, if you want to see the forest. If you prefer, you can take your own car.” The man’s name tag read Francis Base.  
  
“Is there breakfast?” Joan asked.  
  
“Yes, starting at six. Waffles, orange juice, everything.”  
  
“Good.” She smiled. “May I take some of the brochures?”  
  
“Of course, that’s what they’re for. And what brings you to our fair domain?”  
  
“Always wanted to see the forest,” Thursday said.  
  
“You weren’t here in your primary school days? You’re in for a treat. I see that you didn’t bring any children, so I won’t tell you about the tours for youth. The guide dresses up as Robin Hood. It’s fun. Here are some maps of the hiking paths. We’ve got so many.” The concierge gave Joan a group of pamphlets. “Have you had your midday meal yet?”  
  
“Oh, no, we were just going to settle in first, then go out.”  
  
“Very good. There is a fine little place, a quarter-mile to the right, when you leave the car park.”  
  
Francis put a credit card machine on the desk. He ran the top handle over Endeavour’s card, and gave the man the copy to sign. This done, he gave over the receipt and the room key.  
  
“If you need anything, let us know.” Base smiled.  
  
“Will do.” Morse tapped the key on the desk and turned to walk down the hall.  
  
He looked at the key. “It’s 289.” He pointed to the sign for the lift. Joan pushed the baggage cart. Endeavour tapped the door button. They waited.  
  
“Here it is.” The bell sounded. The two stepped in. There were two other people in the lift. With the luggage cart plus the other passengers, it became crowded, but Morse pushed the second-floor button, and the lift zoomed off.  
  
The doors opened, and the entire group moved out. Endeavour helped Joan move the cart. They reached the room door. Morse worked the key in the lock.  
  
The two walked in. Joan put down the bags, next to the entrance. The room was small, but warm, and beautifully appointed. The bed had white sheets and beige blankets. The carpet was brown, with red and black border lines. There was white stationery with blue lettering on the table.  
  
Morse stretched and rubbed the small of his back. “I need a minute,” he said, and headed into the washroom.  
  
Joan took the opportunity to look out the window. The hotel was flanked by lush green fields and stands of trees. If the weather held, she had reason to look forward to the tour of the woods.  
  
Endeavour came out of the washroom. Joan went in. When she emerged, Morse was stretched out on the bed. He was still fully clothed, and he had an arm flung across his forehead. He was snoring.  
  
Joan crept over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sweetheart?” she said. She reached out and swept the hair off his brow. “Wake up, all right?” She swirled the hair again. “Are you okay?”  
  
He snorted and turned his head a couple of times, but that was it. He was down for the count.  
  
Joan sighed, and got up to open her suitcase. She put the clothes away in the drawers, and kept out a light green nightgown. It felt cool and smooth as she slipped it on.  
  
She nudged aside the covers and got in bed. Morse lay atop the sheets. Joan hoped he would wake up and nestle beside her, soon.  
  
But she wouldn’t try to wake him up anymore. Let him get his kip. The day had made him nervous, as it had her. If she pushed him, he would only be groggy.  
  
She drifted off to sleep as well. 

  


…

Two hours later, Endeavour woke up.  
  
He turned and saw Miss Thursday asleep. He shook her gently.  
  
She sat up. “Oh, what?”  
  
He smiled. She saw him.  
  
“Morse, it must be too late to leave for a tour.”  
  
“Might not be. Let's go.”  
  
She got out of bed and picked up her regular clothes from the hamper in the closet. Joan marched into the washroom.  
  
She came out, fully dressed, minutes later. “I’m ready.” She smiled.  
  
He straightened out his clothes, and walked out with her.  
  
“Do you want to try the in-house restaurant?” Miss Thursday asked.  
  
“No, let’s go to that place the man at the desk told us about.”  
  
They got in the car. He drove off.  
  
Shortly, they reached the building. It was called the Matterhorn. They took seats.  
  
The waiter approached them. “Hi, what can I start you off with?”  
  
“Red wine for me, and whatever she wants, please,” Endeavour said.  
  
“I’ll have cranberry juice, please,” Thursday said.  
  
The man handed them both menu cards, and left to get the drinks.  
  
Joan looked over the list. “Hmm, they have a nice chicken, prawns, and salad plate.”  
  
“I think I’ll get the chicken piccata, myself.”  
  
The waiter came back. “Ready?” He held up a notepad.  
  
They read their orders. He scribbled them down and smiled. “Looks good, folks. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  
  
He went to place the orders. Joan sipped her juice.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
  
Knowing he meant the pregnancy, she said, “Uncertain. It’s a solid weight. Doesn’t seem to be moving.”  
  
“Growing at all?”  
  
“It seems to have stalled.”  
  
She looked at him, then down.  
  
“We’ll make it.” He sipped his wine.  
  
“I’m sure.” She looked back at him. “I bet Simon’s doing all right.”  
  
“Eating ice cream, watching the late-night movie.”  
  
Joan chuckled. “If I know Mom and Dad, yes.”  
  
“I wonder what Simon likes. He said rugby, yes?”  
  
“Boys his age usually do.”  
  
“Does he play anything in school?”  
  
“I haven’t asked him. You could, when we get back. Maybe I’ll get him a subscription to a magazine. For Christmas.”  
  
“Good idea.”  
  
There was a candle in the middle of the table. Joan noticed a little box of matches next to it. She lit the candle, and shook the match until it went out.  
  
“Perfect,” Endeavour said.  
  
In time, the food arrived. Morse clinked glasses, and they set in to eat.  
  
“Excellent,” Morse said, and took a drink.  
  
“Mine as well.” Joan took some salad along with her bite of chicken. Then she sampled a prawn. “Really very good.”  
  
They ate and drank for a while. Joan was so happy with the taste of the prawns in sauce that she dabbed one in the dip and fed it to Endeavour. His eyes went wide. He chewed and gulped.  
  
“Mm, very good,” he said, and dabbed his lips with a serviette. “Would you be interested in taking a walk in the woods?”  
  
“This late?” Joan said.  
  
“I think they may have one last trip about to start. Let’s go.”  
  
He signaled the waiter and took care of the check. They got up to leave.  
  
They were close to the end of the time in which new visitors could be admitted. “You’re lucky,” the guard at the entrance said. “You’re pretty much the last people we’re going to let in.”  
  
“Okay,” Morse said, and went to the car park.  
  
The visitors’ center was huge. Light was spilling out of it. Morse guided them around the building, and down a lane into the woods. He did not follow the recommended path, which was marked off by red flags on white ropes, but immediately wandered off on his own. Joan had no choice but to follow.  
  
“Hey, do you know where we’re going?” she asked. “I don’t think this is the right way. I’ll try to remember the way we’ve used. I’m afraid we’re going to wind up lost.”  
  
“There are rangers,” Endeavour answered. “If things go south, we could go to a phone station and call them.”  
  
“Here’s hoping.”  
  
They strode on, looping around in a very strange route. Finally, they came to a clearing.  
  
Joan gazed across it. The line of trees, bedecked with freshly fallen snow, looked like a board game set up by elves. She half expected to see some of them come out and demand a ransom, perhaps of berries.  
  
Dashed if there weren’t some berries, sparkling on a nearby bush. They looked blue. She supposed anything would, at this hour. She reached forward and plucked some.  
  
“These are delicious,” Joan laughed, as she ate a handful. “Morse, have some.”  
  
He did not answer. His eyes were wide. He scooted backwards a few meters.  
  
Joan turned her head, trying to see what Morse had seen.  
  
And then she didn’t have to strain anymore.  
  
A massive reindeer walked out into the open. She couldn’t count the points on its antlers. Joan glanced sideways again, and it seemed Morse had taken a dash back the way they had come.  
  
Were these creatures even supposed to be here? She knew they had some up in Scotland. But she didn’t know where in England they might be. And this one did not look to be part of a herd.  
  
Also, the beast was ten feet tall.  
  
Now, that was wrong. It had to be a vision, a fluke, brought on by eating the berries, which were probably fermented, because they’d been on the bush for so long. The effects were already taking hold.  
  
“Come on,” Joan said to the reindeer. “No need to move. No need.” She held out her hands in a peace gesture. “You’re all right. You’re all right.”  
  
The beast lowered its head and snorted. It tossed back its antlers.  
  
Joan found herself drawn in by its eyes. The animal took a couple of steps toward her. It growled. She felt the rumble in her very feet. “Stop,” she said, and put out a hand.  
  
The animal did not listen. It pawed the ground and ran at her.  
  
Thursday shrieked and dodged out of the way. The reindeer skidded to a halt, and bent down, so that Thursday could climb on its massive back.  
  
She couldn’t be doing this. This wasn’t happening.  
  
Nevertheless, Joan found herself astride the animal. The reindeer began to move. She looked down at her hands, and found they were gripping a sort of long ribbon, made of many colors. She could not even name all of them.  
  
The creature let her ride a while longer, and then somehow found its way to the car park, where it slowed to a halt. It leaned its body forward and down, so that Joan had an easy time stepping off its back.  
  
When she turned around to get another look, she saw it had already dived off, through the brush. Joan looked the other way, toward the cars, and spotted Morse’s among them.  
  
She walked over. A terrified Endeavour was sitting in the driver’s seat. He had the ignition on; suddenly, he leaned over, unlocking the passenger door and shoving it toward her.  
  
“Get in!” he shouted. She did so. He turned up the temperature switch, and gunned the gas.  
  
It seemed to take seconds to get back to the Sullivan. He parked, took her hand, and dashed inside.  
  
Morse got the door open. Joan took a step over the jamb, but Morse grabbed her by the waist, lifted her so that her feet no longer touched the ground, and pulled her into the room.  
  
“There,” he said, and put her down.  
  
She smiled. He did as well.  
  
“Something to be said for rituals.” Joan laughed and shook the snow out of her hair.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Endeavour said. “That thing was the biggest I’ve ever seen! It couldn’t really be that tall. It must be a genetic freak. Are you all right? Did it hurt you?”  
  
Joan shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” She brushed off her skirt. “Where did that storm come from? I thought we might get some rain, but I also could have sworn we were much too early for snow.”  
  
“Myself as well. Turns out it’s December.”  
  
She stared. “Really?”  
  
“Indeed. The first week. Who knows where the year went?”  
  
“They ought to be decorating the station, when you get back. Do you care to use the washroom first?”  
  
“Yes,” he said, and stepped in.  
  
Joan sat down on the bed and flexed her legs. She popped off her shoes and removed her nylons.  
  
Endeavour came out of the bathroom. “Now, when will you tell me what really happened?”  
  
Thursday shrugged.  
  
“No, that cannot be it. Tell me the whole story,” Endeavour insisted.  
  
“I – went for a ride.”  
  
“Are you telling me you got up on that thing, which had to be at least two and a half meters tall, and – rode it, as if it were a horse?”  
  
She nodded. He stared at her.  
  
“You didn’t happen to take a picture?”  
  
“Didn’t think to. Too bad.”  
  
“So you’re telling me you were – Santa Claus. For a minute.”  
  
“He doesn’t ride them. They pull his sleigh.”  
  
“Can you prove any of this happened? Were you just – drunk off those berries you found?”  
  
“We think the same thing. They must have fermented on the branch. But I don’t think I’d have hallucinations, unless there were something else in there.”  
  
“I’d love to take a sample of them. Do you have any more with you?”  
  
“No. I ate the only ones I pulled off the bush.”  
  
To prove it, she leaned forward and kissed him.  
  
He leaned back on his hands and let her. Then, he stepped away from the bed. She stood up as well.  
  
He turned out the lights. Slowly, they got undressed.  
  
Morse got under the covers. Joan reached for the sheet as well, but Morse held up a hand.  
  
“Let me see you,” he said.  
  
“You’ve seen me before,” she said.  
  
“Not like you are now.”  
  
She was startled. “I was afraid you wouldn’t – like my body, once I was – in this way.” She put a hand on her belly.  
  
“Not true at all.”  
  
He reached out his hand. She crossed to him.

  


…

Afterwards, he stretched his legs and lay back. He was covered in sweat. Her hair spread out over the pillow.  
  
“How about… Terence for a boy, and Lily for a girl?” Morse said.  
  
“I like those.”  
  
“Get some sleep.”  
  
“Are we leaving tomorrow?”  
  
“Day after. Oh!” He turned to face her. “I forgot the gift. Down in the car.”  
  
“You can get it tomorrow.” She kissed him.  
  
“Goodnight. Wife.”  
  
She smiled. “Husband.”  
  
They kissed again, and went to sleep.

  


…

The next day, they went to the forest again, and took a sleigh ride. They both competed in an archery contest, with Endeavour doing the better. He won a drinking cup decorated with gold.  
  
He held it forward. “Now I can share with you the gift.” Morse walked over to the car. He took out the small bag, and brought out a bottle of wine, and a small, velvet-covered metal box.  
  
“I shouldn’t ought to have wine, but I bet a little sip won’t hurt.” Joan smiled.  
  
Endeavour filled the glass, and set it on the back of the car. Then he opened the box.  
  
He took out a wedding ring and an engagement ring for her. Then he took the wedding ring for him. He set them all down. Miss Thursday held out her hand.  
  
“I should have done this at the ceremony.” He put the two rings on her hand. Then she put his on the right finger.  
  
She kissed him. “Now we are real.”  
  
He picked up the cup. He drank it first, then handed it to her. She took a very small sip.  
  
He drank what was left, and smiled ear-to-ear. “Let’s have dinner at the hotel tonight.”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
He closed the bottle of wine and put it in the trunk. He got into the car. They took off.  
  
They got back to the room. Joan took a nap. Endeavour watched football with the sound off.  
  
When she woke up, they went to dinner. The hall was decorated for Christmas, although the day was still a few weeks off. Morse started off by ordering a beer. Joan got a cola.  
  
“The place looks pretty,” Thursday said, and sipped her drink.  
  
“What did you get me for Christmas?” Endeavour asked, with just a hint of a sparkle in his eye.  
  
“Um, what do you want?”  
  
“Can’t say it here.”  
  
“Why, Mr. Morse.” She blushed intensely. “I thought I’d get you a baby. Either a boy or girl.”  
  
“That’ll do.” He gulped his ale. Then he looked to either side, noticing the music in the air. “I know this one, it’s – it’s-”  
  
“Did you ever think of going on a trivia show? I bet you’d win.”  
  
“No, me? I couldn’t. People would know about me. Write me fan letters.”  
  
“Beats sitting around waiting for other people to get murdered.”  
  
He snorted, and sipped his beer again. “I hope Simon is enjoying himself. I’ve barely gotten to know him.”  
  
“We’ll have time.”  
  
“We are his parents now. His own died in the building fire.”  
  
“Yes. How terrible.”  
  
“We have to take him to see the graves, when time permits.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Let’s talk about something else.”  
  
“Do let’s. Ah, there’s a sign saying they have a band playing, later on. Would you like to dance?”  
  
“Dance?” he snorted. “Oh, I don’t really do that.”  
  
“I’ve seen you before.”  
  
“Oh, where?”  
  
“Dad has some pictures at his office. A couple of them have you in them. At the station dances.”  
  
“For what? I went to them? That must have been at Crowley, yes?”  
  
The waiter interrupted. “Would you like to order now?”  
  
Joan ordered pork chops, and Endeavour asked for bass. The waiter nodded.  
  
“Another beer, man, yes?” Endeavour lifted his glass. The waiter took it with him on his way to the kitchen.  
  
“Hope he doesn’t take too long.” Morse drummed his fingers on the table.  
  
“Nervous?” Joan asked, with a smile.  
  
“Life has suddenly gotten… very crowded.”  
  
Thursday frowned. “Oh?”  
  
“Adopting one child, and then having another. It’s a lot to put on a fellow.”  
  
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to…?” Joan looked bewildered.  
  
“Yes, of course, I just don’t – ah, ah-” He stammered. “One day I’m on holiday, and the next, I’ve got to do all these things.”  
  
“Do you want me to call Mom and Dad, and ask them to watch Simon a little longer?”  
  
“No, that’s not it.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
The poor woman looked so at sea. “Let’s drop it. Say, did you know the term ‘honeymoon’ comes from the fact that a long time ago, when a couple got married, they were given a barrel of wine or beer with honey, I can’t remember which, and they didn’t come back until they had finished it all?”  
  
“Where do you hear these things?” she said, very slowly.  
  
“It’s an old story.” Morse blinked. “Did I scare you or something?”  
  
“A little.” Her chest heaved in and out. “I thought you were ready. That you were looking forward to it.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“You don’t sound it.”  
  
“I – there are things I want to do, to tell him about – that sort of thing.” He finished with a big smile.  
  
Joan sensed right away it was false. She turned her fork over and over.  
  
The waiter came back with Endeavour’s new ale, and straight away, the man slugged a lot of it. “Tell me a joke.”  
  
“You don’t like jokes.”  
  
“Who says I don’t? Maybe I could start.”  
  
“That smile is unnerving.”  
  
But it just wouldn’t go away.  
  
Joan knocked her fork a few inches away. She pulled it back, and gulped. She wished she could have a glass of wine, but knew it wasn’t right for now. She tipped back her soda pop. It felt so silly for her to be drinking one, on her honeymoon and all. It would have to do.  
  
“How do you do it?” she asked Endeavour.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your job. I know about it from my father. You’re even more cool-headed about it than he is. You hardly ever take time off, you don’t seem to, ah, reflect the things that you’ve seen. All those years on the force, and you never seem to show the effects of – of – people getting killed all the time.”  
  
“I see. What effects did you want me to show?”  
  
He stared at her, flatly. Suddenly she felt something had gone very wrong.  
  
“Is it very difficult, carrying on as you do? I never see you break a sweat.”  
  
He continued to stare.  
  
Again, she fiddled with the utensils. Would the food please get here, in a hurry…  
  
It did not take much longer. The waiter arrived, and set down the plates. “Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked.  
  
“No, that will be all,” Morse said. The waiter left.  
  
Quietly, the two of them began to eat.  
  
“How’s yours?” Joan asked, a couple minutes later, when she thought the weirdness of the mood might have gone away.  
  
“Oh, it’s good.” He kept eating, and looked at his plate. Joan wished he would ask how hers was, or really anything else. She was afraid a big burst of fear had overcome him. She couldn’t entirely blame him, either. Fatherhood was a lot to do, no question. But he had married her, he had come here, she thought he’d decided he wanted to be a father. Maybe she had put too much of a burden on his shoulders.  
  
But there was no going back.  
  
The dinner proceeded in near silence. Except for the sound of chewing and drinking, she heard almost nothing out of him. He hummed a little as he put salt on his food. That was it. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, either.  
  
When they were done, he asked for the check. Joan plunked down a few pounds, but he swiftly handed them back. Thursday got up from the table.  
  
“Where are you going?” he asked. “I thought we were dancing.”  
  
“Oh. You still want to?” she said, with a half-smile.  
  
He nodded, and walked to the dance floor.  
  
The band played slow jazz tunes. Not sure what steps to do, she just did a simple two-step. She was sure the more experienced dancers were looking at them funny. He danced away as if he were in an exercise class. She couldn’t tell if he were having fun or not.  
  
A few minutes later, he said, “You look lost.”  
  
“You dance well,” she said. Even she knew it sounded forced.  
  
“I don’t only listen to – the music I usually listen to.”  
  
“Oh? Hmm. That’s good.”  
  
He put his cheek to hers, and moved a little faster. Joan felt the warmth and pressure of his hips against hers.  
  
“Mr. Morse,” she said, “you are driving me to distraction.”  
  
“Then I’ve done my part.”  
  
“If you-” she began, and stopped.  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“Ah-”  
  
“No, say it.”  
  
“If you don’t want to go ahead with this, you don’t have to. There, I said it.”  
  
“What on Earth do you mean?”  
  
“I can get an annulment. It’s only a few pounds.”  
  
“Don’t you dare.”  
  
He spat the three words as if they were curses.  
  
“You said you were afraid of becoming a father so soon.”  
  
“I’ll do it.”  
  
“Still?”  
  
“Still.”  
  
“Thank God. I thought you meant you wanted out.”  
  
“No, never. I’m just afraid, but then, you are too.”  
  
“Right. We’ll be all right, won’t we?”  
  
“I assure you.”  
  
They danced for a few more songs. Then Endeavour stepped to the side, and smiled. He gripped Miss Thursday’s hand.  
  
“Let’s go,” he said. He pulled her off the dance floor.   


…

They got back to the room. Endeavour shut the door behind them and sat on the bed.  
  
Joan washed her hands at the sink. She looked at the hair dryer on its hook, and then, the coffee machine. Maybe she would have some before they left. One by one, she picked up the cups, wrapped in paper, and put them back down.  
  
“I like these little things that they put in the room for you,” she said. “Did you see the soap?”  
  
She lifted up a piece of it. The bar of soap was very small.  
  
He held out his hands. She threw the bar to him.  
  
“Hmm, so small, I may need some help.” Morse smirked.  
  
“Now, I’m sure you smell good enough.”  
  
“Do I?” He crooked a finger toward her.  
  
She crossed the room and hopped up beside him onto the bed. “I can’t smell anything too bad from here,” she said.  
  
“Really?” he said, and rolled over onto her.   


…

The next morning, they checked out and got back on the road.  
  
About an hour into the trip, Morse pulled over at a petrol station. Joan got out to stretch her legs.  
  
She walked into the store and bought a pack of crisps and a bottle of juice. She couldn’t wait to get home.  
  
Thursday wandered into the front yard of the station, and watched the traffic go by. Her stomach continued to rumble. She daydreamed about waffles, steak, anything.  
  
Her stomach kicked.  
  
She put a hand on it. Crimony! Wouldn’t it stop?  
  
She pulled a couple of antacid tablets out of her purse and chewed them. Maybe she’d go back in the shop and get some seltzer. That would soothe her.  
  
Then there came three more kicks.  
  
It was time.  
  
She turned and rushed into the car. Morse was just sitting down. She pulled on his shoulder.  
  
“We have to go to the hospital.”  
  
“Why? Are you feeling all right?”  
  
“I think I’m in labor.”  
  
“Oh, shit-” He looked behind him and turned the wheel. The car moved out onto the road. He stepped on the gas.  
  
In a few minutes, he spotted a sign for a hospital. He pulled off the motorway.  
  
“Hardware store… Grocery store… Ah, there’s the hospital.” He swerved into the car park.  
  
He rushed to get her into the building. They approached the check-in desk.  
  
Morse took out his police ID. “My wife is in labor.” He showed the nurse the card.  
  
“Okay, sir,” she said. She made notes in a log book. “Please take a wheelchair.”  
  
“I don’t want to wait for a nurse, I’m sorry,” Endeavour said, ushering Miss Thursday into a chair. “Where is the maternity ward?”  
  
“Down the long hall, take a left. You’ll see.”  
  
“Thank you.” He hurried down the lane.  
  
Joan clutched the arms of the chair. She took deep breaths. Endeavour turned a corner and called to a nurse walking toward them.  
  
“You, miss? Can you get her into a room, please? She’s in labor.”  
  
“Labor?” the nurse said, making a mark on her clipboard. “Come with me.”  
  
She strode a couple doors down and checked to see that the room was empty. “Doctor?” she called out. No one answered. “Wait a minute.” She flipped on the lights and checked the machinery. Everything seemed in order. “Here.” She pushed Joan into the room and helped her get into the bed.  
  
The nurse then put the wheelchair back in the hall, and said to Endeavour, “You, sir, are headed off to the waiting room, with all the other fathers-to-be.”  
  
“Yes, thank you.” Endeavour rushed down to the room. He had a couple of calls to make.   


…

“What? Are you sure?” Winifred said. “Is she all right?”  
  
“Yes, so far she’s fine. I still can’t get my breath.” Endeavour ran a finger under his collar. “Can you put Mr. Thursday on the phone?”  
  
“He’s indisposed. Let me tell him.” Winifred put down the phone. “Fred?” he heard her yell.  
  
Endeavour waited while the DCI’s wife conveyed the news. In a moment, she came back to the phone.  
  
“He’s thrilled. You hang in there, okay?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
“You’re my son-in-law now. Best of luck.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Morse stepped to the vending machines. He chose a candy bar and a can of soda pop. Then he sat down. There was a newspaper on the table. He looked at it. ‘The Lutterworth Herald.’ He picked it up and began to read.   


…

The child came into the world after just a few hours. She was born underweight. The nurses cleared the girl’s breathing passages, cut the umbilical cord, washed her, and wrapped her in a blanket. They handed her to her mother, who was utterly exhausted. Joan cried and cried.  
  
“She’s beautiful,” Joan said, and gently rocked the baby back and forth. She kissed her newborn daughter on the forehead.  
  
“What’s her name?” nurse Kate McConnell said. “Let me get the birth certificate.” She pulled a piece of paper off a side table and clicked a pen.  
  
“Lily Winifred Morse.” The baby cooed and gurgled in her mother’s arms.  
  
“I’ll notify your husband,” nurse Clara Gaines said. She went out into the hall.   


…  
Morse tapped the edge of his chair. The television set was tuned to the news. There were riots over milk prices in France. Ha. Milk.  
  
Nurse Gaines walked into the room. “Is a Mr. Morse here?”  
  
Endeavour raised his hand. “That’s me.”  
  
“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”  
  
He stood bolt upright. “A girl! Ha!” He beamed with joy. “Is my wife all right?”  
  
“Yes, she’s very tired, but that’s to be expected. Come see.”  
  
He followed the nurse. She walked into the room.  
  
“Here.” Nurse Gaines gestured to the bed.  
  
Joan sat with the baby in her arms. “This one,” Thursday said, and kissed her again.  
  
Endeavour stepped to the bedside. His eyes went wide. He reached out and touched his daughter’s face. “Beautiful.” He leaned over and kissed her. “What did we name her?”  
  
“Lily Winifred Morse.” Joan lifted up the child. “Here.” She gave Morse the baby.  
  
Tears rolled down his face. “Hello, little girl.” He kissed her on her forehead. The baby wiggled her tiny hands and cried. “Lily.”  
  
They heard a new voice, a man. “Doesn’t anyone want to shake my hand?”  
  
A man in a white coat stepped forward. He had been standing next to a table ever since Morse walked in the room. “I’m Xavier Ortiz. I’m the doctor.”  
  
“Yes, Doctor.” Morse handed the baby back to Joan, and shook the doctor’s hand. “Didn’t notice you.”  
  
“It was a quick delivery, relatively. All her vital signs are normal. You may want to feed her a bit more than usual.”  
  
“Miss Thursday will be taking care of that.”  
  
“Happy Christmas. I’ll leave you to it.” The doctor smiled and stepped into the hallway.  
  
The parents fell to gazing adoringly at the infant.  
  
“She’s got your hair,” Joan said. “Red as anything.”  
  
“And my eyes.” He tapped the baby on the chin. “Not to rush, but will you be ready to leave tomorrow?”  
  
“I think so.” Joan yawned. “I’m Mrs. Morse now. Not Ms. Thursday.”  
  
“Right. I think I’ve got a camera.”   


…

Time shot by like a rocket, as it always will.  
  
It became spring. The charity rugby match was held, between the Thames Valley Police and a branch of the Transport Police.  
  
Bryan Lomax and his new wife, Shirley, sat in the stands. Simon sat next to them. He pointed to the field.  
  
“There’s my Dad. Come on, run!” The boy watched as one DS Morse picked up the ball and was chased out of bounds. The official blew the whistle. Morse kept running. The referee went after him.  
  
Joan came back, from having changed her daughter in the restroom. “There now,” she said, holding up the little girl so Lily could look at the pitch. “That’s your Dad making himself look silly.”  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Thursday ate popcorn as they watched the game. “Don’t know what he was thinking. I told the lad, stay in bounds,” Fred said, and tilted the box toward Win.  
  
“One of these days, he’ll get the hang of it,” Win said wistfully. “Say, Simon, how do you like your new room?”  
  
“It’s neat. I have a desk, and a globe, and books. Mom and Dad got me a huge bed. It’s shaped like a race car.”  
  
“How fun! Is your sister in the room with you?”  
  
“No, we moved her into the little room, next to the laundry one.”  
  
“Does she wake up when Mom does the wash?”  
  
“Yeah. But I check on her a lot.”  
  
“Good lad.”  
  
“Oh, crimony,” Shirley said, as she watched the action on the pitch. “He’s going to argue.” She watched as Morse rambled on and on to the officials about whatever decision they had made. Predictably, the ref made a fist and threw back his thumb. “He’s out.”  
  
“And so goes another year in which Morse gets tossed.” Fred shook his head. “Boy’s never going to learn.”  
  
“Has he even read the rule book?” Bryan asked.  
  
“No,” everyone else said.  
  
Some minutes later, a weary Endeavour carried his tote bag up into the stands, and sat with his family. “Hello.”  
  
“Did you ever consider joining a team, for a whole season?” Shirley asked. “Might help you to practice a bit more.”  
  
“No,” Endeavour said. “I know the game well enough.”  
  
They stood, and walked into the car park. They piled into three different cars.  
  
One was Morse’s. Simon got in the front seat, while Joan put Lily in the child carrier in the back, and took the seat next to her.  
  
“I’ll need a shower when I get back. Is there hot water?” Endeavour asked. He adjusted the mirror.  
  
“Should be,” Joan said. “Hey, little girl.” She tickled the baby.  
  
After some time, Endeavour pulled up in front of the house. He shut off the car. They all disembarked.  
  
Inside, he headed right for the shower. Simon went off to his room. Joan put the baby in her crib.  
  
Later, she joined Endeavour in the bedroom. He was down to his tank top and boxers. He lay with one arm stretched out, and one at his side.  
  
“Can you get me the ointment?” he said. “Ah. These aches-”  
  
“Certainly.” Joan went into the bathroom and fetched the cream. She pulled some tissues from the box by her side of the bed. “Off with it.” She tapped his undershirt. He pulled it off.  
  
“Crikey.” He groaned as she put the ointment on the tissues and began to rub it into his flesh. “I’ll need a bit extra.”  
  
“Yes,” she said. She went on administering the treatment.  
  
When Joan was done, she put the box next to Endeavour’s lamp, just in case. She went into the washroom and changed into her nightgown.  
  
“Early, isn’t it?” Morse said. He pulled his undershirt back on.  
  
“I just want to catch a little shut-eye,” she said. “Next to the handsomest man in the world.”  
  
“Oh, you’re seeing Bryan? Does Shirley know?”  
  
Joan laughed. “You.” She patted his back.  
  
He fell asleep. Joan watched until she was sure, then turned over.  
  
She looked at the wedding picture, which was beside the lamp on her table. Endeavour had finally booked a church. He was resplendent in his full uniform. Joan wore a bright white dress. She held the bouquet.  
  
Joan kissed her fingers and touched the picture. Then she got under the covers and settled in beside her husband.  
  
They dreamed. 

THE END


End file.
